The Walk
by Sentimental Star
Summary: **COMPLETE** Their father has returned from the war. Now that he is back, Peter does not know what to do...--Brotherfic. Bookbased.--


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C.S. Lewis.

**A/N:** Um…:rubs back of head with a sheepish smile: I was inspired? I know I have another chapter of _Nighttime Demons_ people would like to read, but I was hit by this idea (in Child and Adolescent Psych, no less) and it simply would not leave me alone until I got it down on paper (or, as it is, the computer). We were talking about identity, funnily enough, and I made a random connection to Peter. A very great part of Peter's identity (at least according to us fanfic writers and Walden Media) seems to be wrapped up in his siblings, and though I touch briefly on it in _Nighttime Demons_, I began to wonder how their father's return from the war might affect that. It's a little different from my usual style, but I hope you like it just as much!

"**Speech"**

**/Personal Thoughts/**

**Non-Slash. One-Shot.**

**.:The Walk:.**

By Sentimental Star

When Father comes home three years later, Peter is confused. Their parents don't know, but he has spent over twenty-seven years looking after his siblings. At times, it seems every moment of his existence has been spent loving, worrying over, or raising his brother and sisters. Now that Father is back, Peter doesn't know what to do.

So he backs off, cloistering himself in his room or going on long, lonely walks before the rest of the household is awake. And it hurts when not even Edmund seems to notice.

Something Peter should have realized about Edmund long ago, however, is that nothing gets past his younger brother. Ever. Not if it involves Peter or the girls, at least.

It is, therefore, a rather startled Peter who comes downstairs early one spring morning to find Edmund waiting for him on the couch in the living room, already washed and dressed. His younger brother appears to have been watching the stairs and frowns slightly when the sixteen-year-old freezes on the bottom step with a guarded look on his face.

Edmund stands, crossing his arm over his chest and raising an eyebrow. "Where to?" he questions brusquely, moving to the foyer to slip on his shoes.

Peter isn't sure what he's done, but knows his thirteen-year-old brother is less than happy with him. He finally finds his voice, "Just…just down to the park," he manages.

He moves at last from the bottom stair to where Edmund is and pulls on his own shoes.

There is silence between the two brothers, somewhat uncomfortable to Peter, as they finish putting their shoes on and grab their spring coats, the older checking to make sure he has the house keys in his pocket.

Then Edmund pushes open the front door and they go through it, out into the early morning of the spring day.

The sun is shining brightly as they walk along the sidewalk, and not a cloud is in the sky. There is only a slight, balmy breeze; it is warm and absolutely gorgeous. And Peter feels a little—just a little—better.

The walk to the park is a tense one, filled with uneasy, brooding silence. Neither speaks—Peter because he is too uncertain (and maybe a little scared), and Edmund because…because…well, Peter isn't sure why. He used to be able to read his younger brother so well, but ever since Father returned home…

When they reach the pond at the center of the park some twenty minutes later, Peter is grateful. The walk has been close to unbearable.

As Peter should have known, however, things usually have to become much, much worse before they can become better, although only the older teenager will see what Edmund does next as "worse."

The younger boy sits on the ground at the pond's edge, newly dried of dew. Bodily, he forces his brother down with him and cuts straight to the point, "All right, Peter, what's going on?" he demands.

The sandy-haired boy straightens quickly, blinking at the thirteen-year-old in shock, "What?" he breathes.

Edmund rolls his eyes impatiently. "You know what I mean. You've shut yourself up in your room ever since Dad came home. You've avoided him and Mum. You don't read with Lu anymore. You hardly look me in the eye…" He trails off as Peter does just that, the older teen ducking his head so he won't have to meet the intense brown gaze of his younger brother. The other boy frowns darkly and firmly tugs up his chin. "So what's going on, Peter? This isn't _like_ you!"

"Nothing's going on, Ed," he mutters, trying desperately to look anywhere but his brother's eyes.

Edmund continues to tightly grasp his chin. "I'll believe that when you look me in the eye and say so."

Peter forces himself to face Edmund. "It's nothing, Ed," he repeats, a slight waver in his voice…and knows he is lying through his teeth.

The younger teen studies him for a moment, face all but unreadable, before a grim smile works its way onto his lips. "Nice try, Peter, but you've never been very good at fibbing."

Peter is suddenly very annoyed—at least, that's what he tells himself. He wrenches his chin out of Edmund's grasp and stands quickly to his feet, hunching his shoulders as he turns his back to his little brother. "I'm not lying, Ed!" he exclaims huffily, ignoring the sweat that is starting to slick his palms. "It's nothing! It's stupid…just stupid! It doesn't matter anyway! Now that Dad's--" He cuts himself off with a gasp, realizing a second too late that he's given Edmund all the clue he needs.

Silence falls. He hears the younger boy slowly stand to his feet behind him and drops his face into his hand, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to tremble.

"Peter," Edmund begins slowly, voice soft, "is that what all this is about?"

The fight has left him. Peter gives a single, painful nod into his hand.

When Edmund speaks again, his voice is suspiciously thick, although his older brother can also hear the smile in it. "You bloody idiot."

A few seconds later, Peter feels slender arms wrap around his waist as the thirteen-year-old hugs him from behind and buries his face between the older boy's shoulder blades. Edmund's response is muffled, but Peter can still make it out, "You're right. It _is_ stupid."

The other teenager stiffens. Edmund merely tightens his hold and continues, "Stupid to believe that anyone, even Dad, can take your place. Stupid to believe that Lu, Su, and I don't need you anymore. Stupid of you to lock yourself away when you have every right to be with us. Stupid of you to run when all you needed to do was _tell_ me what was going on." He chuckles thickly, relieved, "You really are an idiot sometimes, Peter."

Peter, who has relaxed somewhere halfway into Edmund's impromptu speech, now turns to face his brother, giving a tremulous smile as he tenderly rubs his thumb over the younger boy's forehead. "Yes," he manages blurrily, "but that's why I have you."

Edmund gives Peter a rakish grin as his older brother's arms go around him. "Yes," he teases, "to knock some sense into you."

The sixteen-year-old rolls his eyes fondly and hugs the younger teenager close. "Exactly," he murmurs.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The walk home is much easier. The two brothers are able to talk and laugh and joke as they used to, and Peter's countenance is brighter than it has been in many days.

When they return to the house, Lucy notices. And Peter does not object when she practically tackles him in a hug. Even though Susan tuts disapprovingly, she nonetheless kisses Peter's cheek and gives him a small, wry grin.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie notice, and rightly assume that this is between the siblings alone. They are content merely to be relieved.

Things continue on much as they have been for the past three years, with Peter once more resuming his role in his siblings' lives.

But one thing has changed. Peter never tells Edmund, and the younger teen never suspects, but the thirteen-year-old has become more than just his brother. He has become Peter's Hope.

He knows it confuses his younger sibling whenever the other boy looks up to find Peter smiling at him. Especially if he is doing nothing in particular. But Peter just keeps smiling, and Edmund resigns himself to never figuring out that one, peculiar mystery.

**The End!**

**A/N: **Or, at least, I think so. I do have a second chapter I'm mulling around in my brain, and would be happy to post it if people are interested. For now, however, please let me know what you thought!


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